


Downtime

by Matrix_Matriarch



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Friendship, Fun and Games, G1 Ratchet being (almost) as grumpy as his counterparts, Gen, His friends have to step in to remind him to relax, Snowball Fight, Sort Of, Wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:34:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21673039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matrix_Matriarch/pseuds/Matrix_Matriarch
Summary: Teletraan undergoes some unprecedented downtime, so Ratchet ends up having to take some downtime of his own.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Downtime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MxStitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MxStitch/gifts).



“It’s down, Ratch.”

“I can fix it. Give me a moment.”

“Ratchet, your gonna fry a wire stressin’ over this. Leave it. Take a break.” Wheeljack leans against a slightly less charred patch of wall than the rest of the very charred interior of The Ark. The latest attack from the Decepticons had been devastating, but greatest among the losses was the smoking remains of the supercomputer that ran the ship.

“I only need a couple of astroseconds. Teletraan 1 _must_ be up and running as soon as possible, and I don’t see you doing anything about it.”

“Ya said that breems ago! And as for not doing anything myself, it’s ‘cause there’s nothing we can do. We simply don’t have the proper materials. Until the others get back, we just gotta wait it out, an’ if something explodes in the meantime, we do what we can with what we got.”

“Well I- I can’t do that! How can I just wait all cosy in here while our friends are risking spark and servo out there to defend us?”

Wheeljack shrugs, keeping the worry out of his voice. He’s strangely skilled at sounding nonchalant at all times, even in a crisis, “Ey, you can think of it as doing your service by keeping your processor from going kaput so you can be in tip-top shape to work your magic the moment they do arrive with those materials. Now, let’s take your processor off  
things. What d’ya usually do when you have some downtime?”

“I… I don’t know,” Ratchet finally releases the singed circuitry he had been trying to piece together. Though Teletraan is not living by the same capacity as the Cybertronians, it takes a lot of effort for Ratchet to convince himself he is not abandoning a patient, “read diagnostic manuals? Brush up on inter-universal dialects?”

“Oh, Ratch…” Wheeljack shakes his helm exasperatedly. “We gotta find you something better to do than that. C’mon.” He escorts the fretful medic swiftly away from the smouldering supercomputer and out of the main control room.

They make their way near the entrance of the Ark, where Trailbreaker sits juggling an assortment of luminescent copper spheres, each sparking with considerable energy. It’s as though he’s orbiting several tiny atmospheres around each other, each in the beginnings of a perfect sunset. He chucks one over and Ratchet tries to catch it, only to be nearly bowled off his pedes before it disappears at the wave of Trailbreaker’s servo. A forcefield.

“Hey guys!” He waves cheerily, “how are you holding up?”

“Terribly. Wheeljack seems to think it’s a fantastic idea for us to neglect our duty and slack off and leave our comrades to do all the work.”

“Oi! No need ta throw me under the bus! I’m trying ta help you here!”

Trailbreaker laughs. “There’s no reason you can’t relax _and_ help out.” he pats the space by his side, gesturing the other two mechs to join him. “I’m trying to feed support into the shields to keep the ‘cons at bay, why don’t you guys assist? All you need to do is watch for where the shields are wearing thin and make sure to throw one of my Force Orbs – it’s what I’m calling them, don’t laugh Wheeljack! – before it fades out.”

“I wasn’t laughin’.” Wheeljack protests, stifling a snigger behind his facemask. Trailbreaker gives him an incredulous look, but before any digits can be pointed, their attention is drawn to a distinct fizzling sound. Ratchet is already carefully patching up the fissures in the Ark’s shields the moment they appear, applying the same titanic focus as with his patients. He handles the miniature forcefields as carefully as he would a spark chamber, not allowing for the slightest rupture to go unnoticed.

“You know, it’s more fun if you toss them. Like target practice!” Trailbreaker points out helpfully, demonstrating with a glimmering FSSHT and a whoop of victory. Ratchet grumbles in protest at being bombarded with the resulting shower of sparks.

“I’ll avenge you, Ratch!” Wheeljack grabs one of the charged Force Orbs, aiming it at Trailbreaker, who breaks out in laughter.

“Nooo betrayed by my own creations!”

“Who says I need to be avenged? You know, you really shouldn’t play with these when there’s still repairs to be done, Wheeljack… It could be dangerous!” To punctuate his point, Ratchet lets loose one of the spheres on the engineer with a crackle of bright energy, which tingles harmlessly where it touches armour plating.

“That’s a dangerous game in itself you’re trying there, doc. I mighta been your ally before, but now…” He gathers up as many of the tiny forcefields as he can physically hold, returning fire. Ratchet outwardly huffs exasperatedly, but he can’t withhold the grin which betrays his intentions as he shares a look with Trailbreaker before they both make a dive for the remaining forcefields.

The blazing exchange of energy that followed may have looked alarming from an outside perspective, were it not for the excited laughter of the mechs responsible for it, though it served its purpose of stoking the shields against outside influence.

Ratchet is just about to let loose on Trailbreaker and Wheeljack with a particularly effervescent Force Orb when he stumbles to a halt before he almost tramples Sparkplug. Their human ally had just walked in and is looking on in bewilderment at the tangling mechs.

“You ‘bots seem to be having fun. What is this, a robo-snowball fight?” The workman chuckles, adjusting his hardhat to look up at his gigantic friends.

“I assure you, solidified dihydrogen monoxide is not involved here in any way.” Ratchet crouches down, though he is still far from being on level with the human. “Is there something you needed to tell us?”

“Oh, yeah, Teletraan 1 is all fixed now!”

“Fixed?! But what about the materials?”

Wheeljack chimes in, “I… May have exaggerated the time it’d take for those to arrive. But c’mon, I just thought ya needed the downtime, and I knew the others would sort it out just fine without us. Don’t be mad Ratch- GAH!” His vocaliser sputters as he gets a faceplate-full of Force Orb.

The doctor is already winding up another round, “If that’s the case, I'm sure you won't object to _this_!”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt of 'Downtime' with Ratchet and characters of choice given by Mx_Stitch on Twitter. Go check out their amazing content!


End file.
